


a soft epilogue

by nbmoss



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (& Alfor/Melenor/Adam/Bandor), Allura (Voltron) Lives, Canon Compliant, Fix-It, Gen, Post-Season/Series 08 Finale, Team as Family, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 21:48:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17312450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nbmoss/pseuds/nbmoss
Summary: The power at her fingertips is fading. She thinks of all the lives she has seen herself live, thinks of all the ones she stillcould.“I know where I belong,” she says, and she closes her eyes to focus in on home.





	a soft epilogue

**Author's Note:**

> allura can rebuild whole realities and recreate altea and daibazaal but not give herself a reality where she gets to go home to her family and live out a happy life??

“Altea. Daibazaal. We can return them to their prime.”

Allura smiles slightly. “Return the new Alteans and the Galra to their old homeworlds to begin a new era of peace together?”

“Indeed.”

“I like that idea,” says Allura, thinking of the fields of Altea, of the grass between her fingers and the smell of juniberries strong on the wind, thinking of her parents and Coran and Romelle, and Lance and Keith and Shiro and Hunk and Pidge, and -

She falters, a pang of yearning turning her heart cold for a tick - sharp and cutting. She misses them. She misses her home. She misses her family. She misses leaning on Coran and she misses kissing Lance and sparring with Keith and laughing with Romelle and tasting Hunk’s food and she misses Shiro’s earnest smiles and the tap of Pidge’s fingers against a keyboard.

“I think we can do it,” says Honerva, not seeming to notice Allura’s pain.

Allura pushes the thoughts of them all away, blinks away the thoughts of the thrum of the blue lion and the buzz of Kosmo’s fur against her fingers, the gentle warmth of the mice’s presence in the back of her mind.

It does not help anyone to linger on them now. She must move on, she needs to focus on rebuilding reality, rebuilding Altea and Daibazaal.

“Let us try,” she says.

So they do. They focus in on what Allura has come to think of as _their_ reality. They recreate the planets from their memories, and from Zarkon’s and Lotor’s and the other paladins’ and Allura’s parents’ (although Allura hasn’t dared wonder if they’re merely projections brought forth to comfort them).

“It worked,” says Honerva after a few moments (an eternity or a mere tick?). She lowers her hands and Allura pauses, lets the images wash over her, and there’s Altea with its shining spires, a statue of _Allura_ erected in its fields, bedecked in her paladin armour, hair loose and helmet propped under her arm, expression determined. Coran, Romelle and the other paladins stand beneath it looking grief-stricken.

_Flash._

Hunk works in a kitchen with Romelle in the background.

_Flash._

Pidge pokes at a robot.

_Flash._

Shiro smiles while kissing a man she only vaguely recognises, the others half crying, half cheering in the background.

_Flash._

Acxa, Ezor, Zethrid, Keith and Krolia carry crates of supplies in Blade uniforms.

_Flash._

Lance and Veronica are laughing together fondly in Red’s cockpit, Kaltenecker between them.

Allura bows her head in grief, her very _soul_ feels like it’s burning with the desire to return to them.

The images flicker away and she shakes herself. She cannot dwell, not when the whole of reality is at stake.

“Onto the next one,” she says, clearing her expression and thoughts as she refocuses her quintessence.

She feels Honerva settle beside her once more, the two of them reach out as one for that single burst of life that remained. A spark was all they needed to bring it all back.

 _It should not be as simple as this_ , thinks Allura, _to make and break so many lives at once_.

Even as she thinks it, Honerva’s hand twitches and another strand of reality reforms before them. Her hand falters, and her gaze goes distant as images flicker before her eyes.

Allura watches her, until it’s been too long. “Focus,” she prods. “Do not lose yourself in it.”

“I was dead,” says Honerva, monotone as ever. “You were Empress, and defeated Zarkon and the Galra. A peculiar occurrence.”

Allura doesn’t reply, thinks of Sven and another Slav, and Keith comforting her on the deck of the Castle and she has to purse her lips to keep from smiling even as she wishes she was with him now.

Instead she refocuses her quintessence, reaches out to the tendrils of power and _tugs_.

Bursts of light dance across her vision, and she smiles, watches as life returns, too many images flickering past too quickly to truly process. Then she spots _herself_ … or she thinks it’s her. Her hair is more yellow and her skin paler. She holds Keith’s hand with a soft smile and somehow Allura’s palms feel warm.

_Flash._

The image is replaced with Lance laughing with Hunk and Pidge and someone who looks like Shiro.

_Flash._

“You should take your own advice,” comes Honerva’s voice. “Focus.”

Allura blinks away the new image of Keith’s arms around her as they dance slowly, tries to let it go, but it’s so real and vivid she can almost feel his breath on her neck.

“Your mind lingers on them. You distract yourself.”

“If Zarkon and Lotor were not here,” Allura gestures at the empty white void around them, “would you not feel the same?”

Honerva doesn’t answer, but her jaw tightens.

They work for what feels like an eternity, restitching what Honerva had torn apart, piece by piece, soul by soul.

Allura falters a few more times. She watches Shiro and Keith laughing with someone Allura knows without knowing is the Adam they've mentioned so scarcely.

_Flash._

An alternate version of herself is crowned on Altea, and Alfor, Melenor and Coran stand behind her, all smiling proudly.

_Flash._

Romelle tenderly embraces her, enthusiastically offers her a flower with large blue petals, Romelle’s face glowing in the sunlight as Allura's alternate wakes up beside her.

_Flash._

Another version of herself holds up Lance by a leg, Keith holding up the other. Keith gives her a mischievous look and Allura nods before they both lift and dunk Lance straight into the ocean. Lance splutters as he resurfaces, then kisses them both with a lazy grin.

_Flash._

Watching the different ways her alternates fall in love is somehow endlessly fascinating. She and Romelle, she and Lance, she and Keith, she and Hunk, she and people she doesn’t even recognise.

But in all of the realities where Allura and Voltron coexist, there is some form of Keith, Lance, Pidge, Hunk and Shiro at her side. Her constants. Her guides. Where they are, there she will likely be.

In some realities, she is a paladin (the first time she sees herself in black armour she almost knocks Honerva out with her surprise), in some she is Princess, in some Queen, in some Empress, a commander, a soldier, a weapon, a child, a pirate. She is everything and anything. Most commonly she is Allura, princess of a lost planet and paladin of Voltron. The rest is details.

 _Flash_.

Lotor harvests her people in tubes and lies right to her face about it.

_Flash._

Lotor laughs, showering her in flowers as they laze about on Altea with Blaytz and Trigel.

 _Flash_.

Shiro whoops with joy in Black’s cockpit.

_Flash._

Shiro's eyes blink slowly as he watches a ship take off into the sky, Adam's hand in his.

_Flash._

Adam turns away from Shiro, shoulders stiff with grief.

_Flash._

Lance and Veronica scream at each other in a rainstorm.

_Flash._

Lance steps out into the rain, fingertips upturned to the sky and the most blissful expression Allura's ever seen on his face.

_Flash._

Romelle and Bandor braid one another’s hair gently.

_Flash._

Romelle screams as she tugs on the Yellow Lion's controls.

_Flash._

Pidge, Hunk and Lance are curled up, asleep on each others laps.

_Flash._

Pidge, bleeding out to death in Hunk's arms.

_Flash._

Coran dancing with Alfor and Melenor, smiling warmly at Allura whenever their eyes catch in passing.

 _Flash_.

Coran standing on the new Altea, finally able to perform the funeral rites for Alfor, and now for Allura. Romelle has her hand on his shoulder, and the others are there too, watching as the flares of King Alfor light the sky for the last time.

_Flash._

She watches as each member of her family is born over and over, watches their lives, watches them die - of age, of war, of disease, of everything.

She sees everything.

She sees opportunity. She sees herself returning to her home, to her Lance, Keith, Romelle, Coran, Shiro, Hunk, Krolia, Pidge, Matt. She imagines a world where her parents return with her, a life where Shiro meets Adam's eyes for the first time in years and laughs in disbelief before running to embrace him. A life where Romelle drops to her knees to greet her brother. A life, a future of peace, of love.

Her heart yearns, and she has given so much to the universe and she has claimed so much of the universe's power.

No more.

She has given enough.

“ _Please… come back to us_ ,” a younger Allura had pleaded with Keith in a corridor of the Castle.

He had looked at her from under his Blade uniform hood and promised, “ _I will_.”

“I’ll come back to you,” whispers Allura, and for a short sweet moment allows herself a glimpse into their reality, to linger on Lance’s soft smile and,

_Flash._

\- the way Keith’s longer hair curls in a hairband against his neck.

 _Flash_.

Romelle’s long fingers poking at an irritated Pidge’s equipment.

 _Flash_.

Coran telling Krolia and Curtis elaborate stories.

_Flash._

Hunk teasing a blushing Veronica.

_Flash._

Shiro settling into Black’s cockpit with a smile as the lion lights up to his touch once more.

 _Flash_.

And Allura lets it go, reaches out for another reality that needs rebuilding.

“I’ll come back,” she whispers to the light.

 

“This is it,” says Honerva. “That is the last of it?”

Allura looks up, studies their work. She nods. “That is all.”

“... and what of us now?”

Allura blinks. The power at her fingertips is fading. She thinks of all the lives she has seen herself live, thinks of all the ones she _could._

“I know where I belong,” she says, and she closes her eyes to focus in on home.

 

She opens her eyes to a dark purple sky stretching out above her. When she reaches out a hand, grass tickles her skin.

There’s a juniberry by her head.

She sits up, and plucks it free, studying the landscape of this recreated Altea, looks at where a new monarch would be crowned, looks at the shining spires and the lights in the sky. She can see a gathering at the bottom of the small hill she's sitting on, encircled by the lions of Voltron. Tears sting the back of her eyes.

There’s her family. There's Lance, head thrown back with laughter at a Keith who is rolling his eyes and restraining a fond smile. There's Romelle and Coran twirling together to the beat of a song she can't hear. There's Kolivan, Hunk and Curtis poking at food on a human barbeque, moving together as though they've done this a hundred times. There's Shiro and Shay arm wrestling, Zethrid eyeing their elbows carefully. There’s Acxa and Veronica murmuring softly to each other. There's Pidge dozing in a chair next to a laughing Matt and Ezor and a smug Krolia, rows of tiny glasses between them.

They’re all so close and so real, and yet Allura is content to just watch them for a moment longer.

She looks to her side, and there they are beside her. Her parents, Adam and Bandor are stirring, only just beginning to blink up at the sky.

It _worked_.

Before she moves to explain, she lets out a little huff of laughter, or relief, or glee, and breathes deep, appreciating the warm Altean air once more.

She’s alive, and her family is before and beside her. She’s home.


End file.
